‘It isn’t natural,’ said Hetty, shaking her head, clutching her little girl to her skirts.

‘Soon as the reverend heard,’ said young Rachel Johnson, a friend of Cowper’s eldest lass, ‘he declared it the result of malice, as God is his witness, he said.’

‘Maliss?’ asked Hetty’s daughter. Sorcha tried to remember her name. ‘What’s that mean, ma?’

‘Witchcraft, Mary,’ whispered Hetty, the colour draining from her face just as excitement filled her eyes. ‘Witchcraft.’

The mutterings and murmurs became a solid roar. Sorcha refused to listen. Instead, she waited for news of Peter, anything that might reassure her he was going to be all right. But as evening fell, the word spread and more people gathered, many clutching candles and lanterns. The chatter about witchcraft grew, until Sorcha could bear it no more. When Hetty and Mary went home, she departed as well, quietly, keeping to the shadows.

Exhausted, she hooked her creel over her shoulders. Grateful no one had seen fit to steal the catch as it lay on the street for a couple of hours, she no longer cared it wasn’t fresh and bore traces of dirt. She was famished and heartsore. None of this boded well.

For the first time that day she wished Nettie was staying the night so she might discuss what had happened. What she knew she must do before the sun rose, no matter what, was warn Beatrix. The charm the woman must have placed at the smithy to frighten Peter Morton had done more than intended. If it was discovered Beatrix was responsible, there’d be hell to pay.

Malice, the reverend called it. Nae, it wasn’t malice, nor the witchcraft Hetty and others believed it denoted. Just a foolish prank played by an old woman designed to teach a lad civility.

She’d only just reached her road when a voice came out of the shadows.

‘I thought I told you, it’s not safe to wander the streets at night.’

Startled at first, Sorcha was relieved when she saw Captain Ross approaching. Her hand dropped from her breast. ‘You’re making a habit of alarming me, captain.’

‘Not half as much as you scared me the last time we spoke. I swear there were lightning bolts shooting from those eyes of yours.’ He reached her side. ‘Once again, I’m sorry if I unnerved you, it wasn’t my intention.’

‘Nor was it mine to frighten you,’ said Sorcha quickly, before she could change her mind. ‘I apologise for what I said the other day. I was just so angry — not at you, but at the corporal, at the situation. I forced my way into where you’re staying and… and…’ She searched for words. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d already seen to it that Bel and the bairn would be taken care of. I should have known you’d do something like that. Please forgive me.’